Tethered
by snowyrooftops
Summary: "Looking at her now, Stiles feels like he finally understands what Deaton meant when he said they were each other's emotional tethers." Stiles/Lydia. Post 3x24.


A/N: This is the first time I'm posting anything on here and I'm kind of nervous about it. But, here it is.

* * *

One week.

It's been exactly one week since the Nogitsune threat was eliminated. It has also been one week since Allison Argent was killed in battle.

Stiles himself still gets nightmares almost every night. Most times, he just watches himself bring pain upon the people he loved all over again. He's seen that sword go through Allison so many times in the past week. When he wakes up, sometimes he can swear that he can hear the Nogitsune laughing with that sinister voice of his. He tries very hard to keep his sobs quiet.

Scott doesn't talk as much as he used to. He's still there at lunch everyday but there are a lot of moments when he goes quiet and stares wistfully off in no particular direction and Stiles just knows he's thinking about Allison. Isaac is more aggressive than ever. If his alpha wasn't always around him to keep him grounded, Stiles doesn't even want to think about the amount of trouble he'd get himself into.

The only person who goes unaccounted for is Lydia.

Ever since her best friend died, she seemed to have disappeared into thin air. She was never seen at school or anywhere else and she never answered her phone anymore. In fact, it was never even on these days. Whenever Stiles or anyone else tried to visit her house, her parents would send them away nicely, saying that she wasn't ready to talk.

The fact that Stiles never sees her anymore and has no manner of contacting her is killing him. He wants to see how she's doing and just talk to her. Not just for her sake, but for his as well. Somehow, just the sight of her makes everything feel better. No matter what, she treats him the same. He's always _just_ Stiles to her. As little a detail it was, it made Stiles feel more steady, more controlled.

It's possibly the fifth night he's dreamt of the night of Allison's death, _again_. He knows exactly how it goes by now. He can see the Oni slicing through Isaac with their swords, the look of pure concentration that surfaces on Allison's face as she notches a new arrow. She's missed the last few shots but she's determined to get it this time. If she misses, Isaac is dead.

She releases the arrow and it flies, burying itself in the heart of an Oni warrior. The warrior disintegrates and there's a brief look of celebration on her face before another Oni comes out of nowhere and his sword goes through her. Stiles hears the piercing sound of Lydia screaming her best friend's name and it's enough to jar him out of the dream. He's covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and his hands won't stop shaking no matter how tightly he clenches them into fists.

He sucks in a shuddering breath and gets up off his bed. He grabs a jacket, grabs his set of house keys, and slips on some shoes. He's just about to leave when a thought occurs to him. He takes out a sheet of paper and a pencil and scrawls a note to his father on it: _Went out for a walk. Had to clear my head a little._

_There_, he thinks as he places the note on his bed. _That should keep him from worrying too much_.

He creeps through the door of his room, down the stairs and manages to make it through the front door without getting caught. The night is quiet save for the sound of his own footsteps and the keys jingling in his pocket. He knows how dangerous it is to be walking around in the middle of the night, in Beacon Hills of all places, but he swears if he has to spend another moment in his room, he will _literally_ go insane.

It takes him more than a while to realise that the route he's taking is to Lydia's house. Even then, he doesn't stop himself to turn around and go in another direction. He finds himself on her street and walks until he's in front of her house. All the lights in the house are off except for one room, hers.

He thinks about what he should do. He thinks about ringing the doorbell but there's a greater possibility that her parents will answer instead of her. He thinks about calling her but quickly remembers that he's left his phone at home. He squints a little and sees that her bedroom window is cracked open a bit.

Then, he does something really stupid. He carefully makes his way across the front yard over to underneath Lydia's window. He pauses, considering what he's about to do. He decides to do it anyway.

"Lydia!" he tries to yell at a whisper tone. He looks around on the ground for something to throw at the window. He sees a couple pebbles at his feet and does not hesitate to pick the up and toss them. The hit against the glass with tiny _clink_ sounds. "Lydia!" he tries again. "It's me! Stiles!"

He pauses again, waiting for a response. He's just about to throw another pebble when the window opens and he sees Lydia poke her head out of it. Even though the lighting isn't that great and all he can see is her silhouette, the sight relaxes him a little.

"Stiles?" she whispers, sounding incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"

There it is.

Stiles almost smiles. Instead, he says, "I came to see you. Please, let me in."

She doesn't move for a couple seconds. He worries that she's going to tell him to leave her alone, shut the window and that'll be that. At least, he does until he hears that resigned sigh from her, the one that she always uses when she's around him. "Fine," she mutters, "I'll be right down."

Stiles waits a grand total of three seconds at the door before Lydia opens it. She's dressed in a simple sweater and sleep shorts and her hair is up in a messy bun. It's one of the few times Stiles has seen her without makeup and he notices the dark circles under her eyes, telling him that she's probably been sleeping just as well as he has. The sight of her in front of him causes equal shots of affection and relief to go through him and it takes every last ounce of his will power not to reach out and pull her to himself and just hold her close.

She crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. "You didn't answer my question." Nevertheless, she moves to the side, giving him space to enter the house. He walks in and she closes the door behind him. He's about to walk towards the TV room but she lightly grabs his hand and guides him up the stairs. She only releases him when they're inside her room and she shuts the door behind her.

Lydia brushes past him and walks over to her bed and unceremoniously plops down on it and tucks her legs beneath her. Stiles simply stares at her the entire time, as if in a daze, only snapping out of it when she prompts, "Well?"

"I came to see how you were doing," Stiles explains, gingerly walking over to the bed and sitting next to her.

Lydia rolls her eyes a little and with her signature dismissive tone, she replies, "I'm fine."

Stiles stares at her for a couple beats and he can feel the front she's putting up slowly melt away. "Are you really?"

She swallows. "What do _you_ think?" she asks with a biting tone. "My best friend is _gone_." She bites her lip and looks up at the ceiling, trying to keep it together, but the tears still manage to come. One manages to escape and rolls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away with the end of her sleeve. "If I had tried harder to keep her away, she would have lived," she whispers hoarsely.

A horrifying thought occurs to Stiles. "You knew she was going to die, didn't you?"

Lydia nods. She takes a deep breath in, but it comes out shaky. "It was worse than just knowing. It was like I could sense its inevitability, like I could feel it in my bones." More tears come but from the way she's clenching her fists, Stiles can tell that she's still trying to suppress her emotion. "And when she died, I felt it and-," she cuts herself off and presses her lips together, as though the words are too painful to get out.

Even though he's already seen it quite a few times, the sight of Lydia Martin crying still makes Stiles feel as though his entire world is shattering. He reaches his hand out and places it over one of her clenched fists. He uses his hand to gently uncurl her fingers and he slips his palm into hers, interlacing their fingers. When he feels her lightly squeeze his hand, he looks up to see her giving him a grateful look through her tears.

He looks her dead in the eye as he says, "I'm not going to pretend that I understand what you've gone through, because I don't. But I will say that you don't have to hide from us. You're as much a part of the pack as anyone else and we have to look out for each other. We can help you through it."

She looks like she's at a complete loss for words. She breaks the eye contact and stares at the little space between them where their joined hands are resting. She's done crying for the moment. "I know," she whispers. She nods as though she's internalising the statement. She looks up at him again and repeats, louder this time, with conviction, "I know."

He sends her a small, encouraging smile that she barely manages to return. Then, she scoots closer to him, rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. Stiles isn't even surprised by the action. They sit like that for a couple minutes and as Lydia's breaths progressively deepen, Stiles realises that she's falling asleep against him. He gently nudges her and manages to coax her into her bed, underneath her bed sheets. He turns around, about to vacate the household and head back home when he hears her sleepily murmur, "Don't leave me."

The words jar him to a dramatic halt and he turns to see her looking at him through tired eyes. He opens his mouth, trying to respond, but his mind has gone completely blank, leaving him gaping at her. She tries to roll her eyes, but she's too tired to do it with much vigour. She shifts from her position in the middle of the bed over to one side and pats the space. "Come on. Come here," she beckons quietly.

Stiles lets out an awed breath of laughter before slipping off his sneakers, taking off his jacket and crawling under the covers next to Lydia. He tenses in surprise as she moves towards him and curls up to him, using his arm to pillow his head and draping her arm across his torso. She sighs, comfortable, and he allows himself to relax. Looking at her now, Stiles feels like he finally understands what Deaton meant when he said they were each other's emotional tethers. Before he closes his eyes, he leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Neither of them have anymore nightmares that night.


End file.
